


you never could control me

by findmeinthevoid



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Multi, Other, also i try angst, another one, i dont know if its working but, idk if ill drop it but i had an idea, im getting there, im not even sure where this is going, im really trying, lets just cross our fingers that THIS one dont get dropped, slowly, twas an attempt, verryyyyy tentative summary, yea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-04 03:57:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17891051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/findmeinthevoid/pseuds/findmeinthevoid
Summary: It's hard enough to fight your inner demonsIt's harder to fight a physical manifestation of themIt's definitely much harder to embrace them





	1. I once was a man with dignity and grace

**Author's Note:**

> it's ya girl back at it again with another New Idea (TM)
> 
> summary and tags and literally everything are very much subject to change because I don't know how to plan
> 
> also yes the title is a panic! at the disco quote and yes this chapter title is an alec benjamin quote

He woke up in a cold sweat.

Well, that would be implying he’d been asleep in the first place. Which he had certainly not. It was more like the closing of a horrible nightmare, when your eyes crack open and you’re flooded with relief at the realisation it was only all a dream.

Only this wasn’t a dream. This was his twisted, nightmarish, nighttime reality. He’d bade farewell to a good night’s sleep long ago. Now it was only a matter of holding his rapidly declining sanity together.

Scarlet red strands, bright even in the dim moonlight, plastered against his collarbone and curling about his neck, soaked in the sweat of a runner after a marathon. He hadn’t so much as sat up from the bed, but he was _drowning_ in it.

He shivered slightly, then winced. He could hardly feel _anything_ at this point, but it stung upon impact nonetheless. There probably wasn’t a single inch left on his body that hadn’t been marked by a bruise, cut, or both.

Nathaniel groaned, forcing himself up to a sitting position and peeled off the sheets. His clothes were shredded to a point beyond repair, but it didn’t look like the sheets had been dirtied too obviously. Aside from the sickening dampness, there were only the faintest smudges of dark spots, and those, too, would probably disappear after a good hand-wash.

The only evidence of these nightly torture sessions was apparently his own body.

He sighed and dragged himself out of bed and into the bathroom. Every breath grated against his throat and he wanted to throw up- if there was anything to throw up, that is.

Nathaniel winced as his bare feet touched the ice-cold tile. With some difficulty, and not daring to turn on the light, he stripped himself of his clothes and stepped into the shower. The bathtub was even colder than the rest of the chamber, and his entire body went tense the moment his shoulder brushed the frigidly smooth walls of the shower. He reached forward and turned the tap.

The first rush of icy water made him gasp, and he keeled over, struggling to breathe. He didn’t move though, letting the freezing liquid slide down his back and weave through his hair- offering at least some relief from the icky wetness of only sweat.

He finally managed to stand up straight and ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it back, as the water slowly warmed up to a bearable temperature. Nathaniel stood there for some time, just letting the water flow as it did. When it suddenly reached a peak and the cut on his shoulder stung painfully, he slowly cranked the water temperature back down until it was lukewarm. Then, he began to scrub.

All this in the dark. He hadn’t dared look in the mirror and see the after-effects of what had become half his life. Not until he’d cleaned the worst of it, first. Nathaniel didn’t think he’d be able to hold back seeing himself raw, bloody and battered.

Only the softest of hisses escaped his mouth as the water continued to run, and he carefully soaped, lathered, and rinsed himself. The soap only made the cuts burn worse, but the rush of cooler water washing away the bubbles offered some relief.

Finally, he turned the water off entirely and grabbed the towel hanging from the rod beside the curtain. He patted himself dry, careful not to rub the rough fabric against the uneven bits of skin, and stepped out of the tub.

Some patting the wall to locate the light switch, and a flick that required a lot more energy than expected, later, Nathaniel found himself squinting instinctively at the bright light that had suddenly flooded the small room. In the little while it took for his eyes to adjust, he convinced himself to turn to the mirror, and let the towel drop the floor.

His first impulse was to shut his eyes again. He kept them deliberately closed for three, five, ten seconds, before opening them again.

He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He wanted to smash his fist through the glass and watch it shatter to itty bitty pieces all over the countertop. The shards would go flying and probably end up injuring him, too, which would be a shame after all that effort he’d just put in to clean himself off.

If this had been anyone else, he would have turned away and run as far away as he possibly could. A truly good person would dare to approach the inflicted and comfort them in spite of the horror and shock that the sight itself was enough to induce.

But Nathaniel couldn’t bring himself to look away. He simply stared, frozen in horror and disgust, and unable to sort his own feelings into reasonable emotions. He threw his arm behind him, desperate to find the light switch again, and hastily slapped it off. And now he was alone in the dark, closed space of his bathroom, with the only faintest rays of light coming in from a crack in the doorway.

Nathaniel fell back against the wall, sliding down onto the chilly floor tiles, and began to cry.


	2. Memories turn into daydreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp whatta fast update lol
> 
> thankie to @awkwardly_living for giving me the motivation to yeet out another chapter, as well as smol, kazoo, and LG, as always

“You were serious.”

Alix could only gape as Jalil deconstructed his entire bedroom and compacted it into the space of a single suitcase.

“Of course I was!” he replied, as if he had been preparing her for this over six months in advance.

Which he had, she’d give him that. But she hadn’t realized he’d actually been serious about it until it was happening right in front of her.

“You mind helping me out instead of standing there gawking?” he asked, an edge to his tone. “I want to be done packing so I can just meet Dad when he comes home and then it’s  _ adieu _ .”

Alix shook her head slowly, utterly disbelieving. Sure, Jalil had  _ mentioned _ moving to Egypt to study the ancient history of the region, on multiple, multiple occasions. Their father’s answer had always been a strict “and where would you find the money for such an endeavour?” or “nothing substantial will ever come out of a trivial dream research trip to Egypt” and that would be the end of that.

Then, when he’d taken inspiration from Theo - the poor guy with too many dreams and too little spare time - and taken up multiple odd jobs around the city, he’d started bringing up the topic more often. Still, Alix usually watched him with a neutral deadpan and passive support for his passion, not really expecting anything at all to come of it.

Honestly, she didn’t much believe it even now. He’d probably just take the bus to the airport and chicken out at the last minute, if he even got that far. He’d come home and admit to his foolish intuition and reckless behaviour, and go back to his boring, introverted, perpetual nose-in-book self.

None of this she dared to say aloud. He glanced up at her one more time, silently questioning if she was planning to help him at all, and she dropped her arms from across her chest and left the room.

She paced the living room a couple times before finally settling down in the kitchen. She pushed herself up onto a countertop and began to rummage through the groceries her brother had brought in earlier that day. There were rather a lot of snacks- especially considering that neither of them were in elementary school anymore and usually bought snacks from nearby cafes when they weren’t at home. 

Alix emptied most of the contents out onto the countertop, picking one bag filled with round fruits or vegetables out from the rest and opening it. Plums. She took one out and ran it under the faucet, then shook it to dry it off after turning off the tap. She rinsed the juice off her hands when she was done, then leapt off the counter, landing lightly on the floor.

She went back to Jalil's room, where he was now attempting to put heavy weights on top of the suitcase to make its contents fit inside. There were already rejected objects on the bed beside the case, items deemed not important enough that they must be brought along on this journey. Alix picked up what looked like a weathered artifact, and just by holding it she could tell it wasn't real.

She recalled the story to this one. Jalil and his class had gone on a field trip to the Louvre and he had been ecstatic to finally get to explore the Egyptian section that his father had barred him from for so long. The tour ended with a visit to the gift shop, where each child was sent home with a complimentary “ancient jewel”. Even at age 9, Jalil could tell it was a cheap novelty. Alix could still remember him throwing it on the floor in frustration when he got home, throwing a fit because the tour guide had “misinformed” them (five-year-old Alix learned a new word that day) and the gift shop was using false marketing tactics. Eventually, their father had managed to calm him down - as well as Alix, who had now taken to marching around the living room chanting “false marketing tac-tics!” (it was a fun phrase to say) - and convinced him to keep it for when he someday came across a real ancient artifact.

That was a decade ago, but Jalil still hadn't let go, apparently. Alix tossed it back onto the bed and he snatched it up as if it were a rare heirloom and put it into his own pocket for safekeeping. 

He glared at her. “Are you going to help me close this?”

She shrugged, leaning back against the wall again. The less she entertained his spur-of-the-moment ideas (or reckless ideas in general), the faster he'd get over them and face reality.

He took her silence as a negative response and sighed, opening the top again and examining the contents with a frown.

Alix cleared her throat. “You haven't bought pre-packaged snacks in forever. Can I have some?”

He didn't turn around, nodding to himself about something he was muttering under his breath. She waited for a few moments, then he finally spoke up.

“Those are mine. You can take one bag of chips,” he relented.

She nodded. “Cool,” she said, and left the room again without another word, silently wishing he'd let her have the cola gummies. Apparently not, and he was already irritated with her so there wasn't much of a point in pressuring him to negotiate.

She took her bag of chips and lifted her rollerblades and helmet off the wall mount by the front door. 

Jalil must have heard her because he called “aren't you going to stay and see me away?” but Alix ignored him.

She leaned back in the the door as soon as she'd left it. “I'm going to the skate park with Nath,” she informed him with a shout through the house. “I'll meet you at the airport!”

_ “If you even get that far”  _ she added under her breath, and left.

*

Even over a week later, it was still strange thinking he was actually gone. Her father had noticeably eased on her- perhaps he reasoned that if he was less strict, his child would be less inclined to try and run away.

It wasn't like she and Jalil had been constantly in each other's faces, anyway. There wasn't a gaping hole in her life where he'd left the country and the continent. But there was a strange, quiet sort of unease about the house. It made her worry very slightly, then reassure herself she was only being paranoid, then the idea of paranoia itself only made her more worried.

He sent a single image of arriving at the airport in Cairo the day after he left, but he hadn't sent a single message since then. Alix figured he was busy, in a place with limited service, or just didn't want anything to do with the family anymore. Alix honestly wouldn't blame him if it were the last one, though it had occurred to her once or twice that she'd missed out on a lot of opportunities to get to know her brother over the years before they grew apart in proper spatial terms. But missed time was time gone past, and there wasn't much of a way to go back now and tell her past self to get closer to her sibling while she'd had the chance.

That was when the dreams started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:D

**Author's Note:**

> if you like it please tell me
> 
> if you don't like it i don't mind hate comments (not that i've ever gotten one yet but there's a first time for everything *sips tea*) but i'll assume you didn't like it if you don't validate me on every single chapter with a giant text wall comment (jkjk i love you and just the fact that you clicked on this in spite of literally everything is a truly validating thing for me lol)


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